


October 31st

by Mandibles



Series: Scerek Week [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belated piece for Scerek Week, Day One. It's Derek's first Halloween completely on his own, until he and Scott sit down and commiserate over ex-girlfriends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October 31st

On October 31st, 2011, just as the Disney princesses and Marvel heroes start traipsing across Beacon Hills with their Jack-o-lantern pails, Derek finds himself crammed in some dank bathroom stall in some bar with some nameless guy’s lips wrapped around his cock. Despite what might have happened to him in the past few months since Laura disappeared, since he became Alpha, this is one place he never thought he’d see himself doing one thing he never thought could shake him like this does. Anxiety prickles under his skin as he grabs for handfuls of ginger curls and drags the guy—twenty-something, but younger than him—further down his cock; he shudders, chokes quietly when he meets the flutter of the guy’s throat.

And, it terrifies him. Because he’s never—he’s—There was only one; there was only _her_. Whenever he thinks about it—about sex, _fucking_ —all he has is the way her hair slipped through his fingers, her smirk when she teased his slit with her sinful tongue until he was banging his fist on the bed, almost sobbing in desperation and— _oh_. His teeth—fangs now—easily slice through his lip in a rush of copper as the first spurt of his orgasm leaves him, coats the guy’s tongue. He hunches over with a pained shudder and allows himself a ragged, wrecked, “Fuck,” as he deposits the rest of his load between the redhead’s abused lips in shallow thrusts with the humiliating picture of _her_ behind his scrunched eyelids.

But, that’s not the worst part. What really ruins him as he zips his jeans up, ditches the guy just as he reaches to get himself off, and clambers back into his Camaro, is how all he can think about are those days, those October 31sts, that he found himself knocking on neighbors’ doors and demanding candy bars and Pixie Styx with Laura and a gaggle of cousins flanking him. He remembers how much he used play up that he hated Halloween, that he was too big, too old for it, that he had better things to do with his time than giggle at werewolf costumes with his sister.

He never thought that maybe, one October 31st, he’d find himself pressing up against someone—a guy, of all things—who reeked of whiskey and old sweat and coercing him into sucking him off with a sharp, dark talent he didn’t realize he had but doesn’t have to think hard about where he got it from. That’s why he did it, really: it’s his first Halloween entirely on his own, no family, no Laura, no Boyd or Erica or Isaac, and even Peter’s disappeared somewhere for the night, day, week. He’s alone with the last person he cares to be around and he’s just so lost that he—he—he doesn’t know what to _do_.

He’s drunk on it, this strange mix of melancholy, loneliness, and sexual frustration, and he staggers back into the charred remains of the Hale home in a daze so thick, he doesn’t catch something’s off until he drops into his singed loveseat in a cloud of dust.

“Derek.”

Bristling, Derek snaps his attention to the source of the sound with a warning growl, eyes flashing Alpha red. Scott, of course, steps out of the dark unfazed and Derek’s growl tapers into a low rumble. If Scott’s looking for a fight, he’s not going to find one in Derek; he doesn’t have it in him now. He doesn’t _want_ to fight now. He just wants to curl up in the chair, in the last of his pack’s scent that still clings to it, and forget the last few hours.

So, when Scott approaches, Derek tries to keep his, “Shouldn’t you be trick-or-treating or something?” as neutral as possible. Whether or not he manages it is debatable, but when Scott shrugs dismissively, he figures it doesn’t matter.

“Probably,” Scott answers, “Everyone’s at Lydia’s house, actually.”

“And you aren’t,” Derek points out.

Here Scott falters, rubs the back of his neck. “No. No, I’m not,” he agrees slowly, adding, “Neither are you.”

It takes a second to click and warmth blossoms in his chest when it does, but he quickly wards it off with a derisive snort, a smirk. “You’re joking.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Scott continues to wander over until he’s so close Derek feels a snarl build in the back of his throat. There’s a slight laugh in Scott’s voice when he says, “Come on, you should come with me. It’s better than being holed up in here all alone, right? I mean, if it wasn’t for Stiles, I’d probably still be sitting in my room, stuffing my face with candy.”

“Because of Allison?” Derek touches hesitantly.

And, Scott doesn’t lie. “Yeah.”

Derek can sympathize. That may be why he shifts over in the seat, a silent peace offering that Scott readily accepts, plopping beside in a flash of chocolate and another rush of musty air. They don’t say anything here; they simply relax in shared misery, shared body warmth. Derek frets for a moment if Scott can smell the guy on him, the redhead who licked him with a sloppy, Jack Daniel’s-soured tongue, but he’s too content to dwell on it long, content to sit beside Scott in an almost companionable peace.

He didn’t realize how badly he needed this until he’d gotten it.

“I want candy,” Scott bemoans after a moment.

“I’m not going,” Derek says in the same breath.

Scott huffs a laugh, nudges him with an elbow. “Okay, fine. Then, you wanna go to the corner store? They have candy.”

Derek offers an incredulous eyebrow, but what comes out of his mouth is, “I’ll drive,” and the clusterfuck of the last few hours is lost in Scott’s grin.


End file.
